Rambles in an Old City Part 15

It is a curious and melancholy coincidence, that the fourth volume of his "English Flora" reached him on the very last day he ever entered his library; and he thus had the gratification of seeing the completion of a work which, in his own estimation, was calculated, beyond all the other labours of his pen, to establish his reputation as a botanist, and confirm his erudition as an author.

St. Giles, the next in order of the saints.h.i.+ps, in addition to its architectural beauties, with which we pretend not to "meddle," presents a few legendary claims to our notice. The effigy of St. Christopher, of a monstrous size, with his staff sprouting by his side, was originally painted over the north door, as the patron saint of children presented for baptism, who generally were brought in at that door. In most churches where a north door existed, this image or painting of St.

Christopher was wont to appear, depicted on as large a scale as the wall would permit, in conformity with the legend that he was a saint of n.o.ble and large stature. In the aisle once stood a chapel, altar, and image of St. Catherine, with a light burning before it, and against one of the pillars stood a famous rood, called the Brown Rood.

St. Benedict, the patron of monks, has his monument in the form of a little ancient church with a little tower, round at the bottom and octagonal at the top, where three little jingling bells give notice of the hours of prayer.

St. Swithin, that famous prophet of wet weather, has his memorial, too, not far distant. More have heard the old adage, "If it rain on St.

Swithin's day, there will be rain more or less for forty succeeding days," than may have cared to trace its origin, which seems involved in some mystery. One authority tells us that St. Swithin was Bishop of Winchester, to which rank he was raised by Ethelwulf, the Dane; and when he died in 865, he was canonized by the pope. He had expressed a desire to be buried in the open church-yard, and not, as was usual with bishops, within the walls of the church: his request was complied with; but upon his being canonized, the monks took it into their heads that it was disgraceful for a saint to lie in the open church-yard, and resolved to remove his body into the choir, which was to be done in solemn procession on the 15th of July. It rained, however, so violently on that day, and for forty days succeeding, as "had hardly ever been seen," which made them set aside their design as heretical and blasphemous; and instead, they erected a chapel over his grave, at which many miracles are said to have been wrought.

Another writer tells us that "St. Swithin, a holy bishop of Winchester, about the year 860, was called the weeping St. Swithin, for that, about his feast, Praesepe and Aselli, rainy constellations, arise _cosmically_, and commonly cause rain." The legend attached to its name is perhaps almost the only particular attraction of this little church.

The church of the holy St. Lawrence stands upon the spot of ground that in ancient days, when Norwich was a fis.h.i.+ng town, was the quay or landing-place for all the herrings brought hither, the t.i.the of which was so considerable when it belonged to the bishops of the East Angles, that when Alfric, the bishop, granted the key staithe, with the adjoining mansion, to Bury Abbey, about 1038, the abbey, upon building the church, had a last of herrings reserved to it, to be paid them yearly. This last of herrings was compounded for by the celerer of the convent, about the time of Henry the Third, for a pension of forty s.h.i.+llings, which was annually paid until the time of Henry the Seventh, and then done away with, on account of the meanness of its profits.

On the sides of the arch of the door in the west are two carvings, one representing the martyrdom of St. Lawrence, the other that of St. Edmund, who is seen in a rather mutilated condition, (in more senses than one) his head lying at some distance in a parcel of bushes, while the Danes are shooting arrows into his body, alluding to that portion of the legend which says that when they could not kill him with arrows, Hunguar the Danish leader ordered them to smite off his head, and carry and throw it among the thickest thorns of the adjacent wood, which they did; but a wolf finding it, instead of devouring it, kept it from all beasts and birds of prey, till it was found by the Christians and buried with his body, and that in a surprising manner.

In the fifteenth century, three "Sisters of Charity," called the Sisters of St. Lawrence, dwelt in a tenement by the churchyard. In 1593, the copes were turned into pall cloths, and in 1643 the painted gla.s.s of the windows was smashed, and other considerable damage done to the ornamental fittings up of the building.

Near to the church is the well of St. Lawrence, the water of which is now conveyed to a pump; bearing this inscription upon it:-

This water here caught In sort, as you see, From a spring is brought Three score foot and three.

Gybson hath it sought From St. Lawrence's well, And his charge this wrought Who _now_ here doth dwell.

Thy ease was his cost, not small- Vouchsafed well of those Which thankful be, his work to see, And thereto be no foes.

From St. Lawrence's belfry, the curfew is rung at eight each evening.

St. Gregory's contains an altar tomb, with a long Latin inscription to the memory of Sir Francis Bacon, a judge in the court of King's bench, in the time of Charles II.

On the communion table is an inscription to Francis Watson, a pedlar, who painted and marbled all the pillars of the altar, adorned it, and railed the front.

St. John's _Madder Market_ owes its distinctive name to the market formerly held on its north side, for the sale of _madder_, an article used in dying. Margaret, d.u.c.h.ess of Norfolk, the widow of Thomas Duke of Norfolk, beheaded by the command of Queen Elizabeth, lies buried in the choir of the church.

St. Andrews, the second church in point of architectural beauty, stands upon the site of one founded prior to the Conquest. Its eastern window bears traces of sad havoc having gone on in the midst of the scriptural scenes it was intended to depict.

At the east end of the two aisles are doors entering from the porches, and over them verses.

Over the south aisle door-

This church was builded of Timber, Stone and Bricks, In the year of our Lord XV hundred and six, And lately translated from extreme Idolatry A thousand five hundred and seven and forty.

And in the first year of our n.o.ble King Edward The Gospel in parliament was mightily set forward.

Thanks be to G.o.d. Anno Dom. 1547, December.

Over the north aisle door-

As the good king Josiah, being tender of age, Purged the realm from all idolatry, Even so our n.o.ble Queen, and counsel sage, Set up the Gospel and banished Popery.

At twenty-four years she began her reign, And about forty four did it maintain.

Glory be given to G.o.d.

There were formerly bra.s.s effigies of John Gilbert and his wife, with _seventeen_ of their children.

St. Peter's Hungate, or Hounds' Gate, owes its name to the fact of the hounds belonging to the bishop being formerly kept close by. The old church was demolished in 1458, and the new one, commenced the same year, was finished in 1460, as appears by the date in a stone on the b.u.t.tress of the north door, where there is an old trunk of an oak, represented without any leaves, to signify the decayed church; and from the root springs a fresh branch with acorns on it, to denote the new one raised where the old one stood.

St. Michael at Plea takes its name from the Archdeacon of Norwich holding his pleas or courts in the parish; it has some curious panel paintings of the Crucifixion, Resurrection, the Lady of Pity, Judas, John and the Virgin, St. Margaret and the Dragon, St. Benedict and St. Austin.

In the church of St. Simon and St. Jude, is a curious monument of a knight in armour, with a number of other figures grouped around the altar on which he lies. In this parish is the bridge where the "cucking stool"

was wont to be kept, an instrument of punishment for "scolding and unquiet women," of as ancient origin as the time of the Anglo Saxons; the offender was seated in a kind of chair, fixed at the end of a plank, and then _ducked_ in the water; a cheating brewer or baker subjected himself to a similar degradation.

St. George's Tombland, so called from the burial ground upon which it stood, has also some curious monuments; near it is a house, commonly called Sampson and Hercules Court, from two figures that formerly supported the portico, but which now stand in the court. The house was formerly owned by Sir John Fastolf, afterwards by the Countess of Lincoln, and in the time of Henry VII., by the d.u.c.h.ess of Suffolk.

"St. Martin's at the Plain" stands close by the scene of the memorable battle between the rebels under Kett, where Lord Sheffield fell, and many other gentlemen and soldiers: the conflict lasted from nine o'clock on Lammas morning until noon. The World's End lane leads hence to the dwelling of Sir Thomas Erpingham, long since transformed from a sumptuous mansion into the abode of poverty, its chambers subdivided and parcelled out, defaced and disguised by whitewash and plaster, and yet more by the acc.u.mulations of dirt and decay; until it needs the microscopic vision of an archaeologist to trace even its outline, among such a ma.s.s of confusion and rubbish.

"St. Helen's," which belonged to the monks, is now cut up into three parts, the choir being turned into lodgings for poor women, part of the nave and aisles into the same for poor men, while the intermediate portion is used for divine services. A charity that owns an annual income of 10,000, might, we think, find some better arrangements possible to be made. Kirkpatrick, the celebrated antiquarian, lies buried here. Over the south entrance to the church are these lines-

The house of G.o.d King Henry the Eight of n.o.ble Fame Bequeathed the City this commodious place, With lands and rents he did endow the same, To help decrepit age in woful case, Edward the Sixth, that prince of royal stem, Performed his father's generous bequest.

Good Queen _Eliza_, imitating them, Ample endowments added to the rest; Their pious deeds we gratefully record, While Heaven them crowns with glorious reward.

St. Giles' Hospital, to which the church of St. Helen has been united by the appropriation of its nave and chancel, is a relic of great antiquity-a memorial of the liberality of Bishop Suffield, who in 1249 founded it, appointing four chaplains to celebrate service there for his soul, and all poor and decrepit chaplains in the diocese, endowing it with means to support the same number perpetually, and to lodge thirteen poor people with one meal a day. There were also appointed afterwards four sisters, above fifty years of age, to take care of the clothing, &c.

&c. The master and chaplains were to eat, drink and sleep, in one room, and daily, after grace at dinner before any one drank, the bell was to ring and the chaplains to go into the choir and sing _Miserere mei Deus_.

There was also an _Archa Domini_, or Lords' Box, from which the poor that pa.s.sed by, were daily to be relieved as far as the funds permitted. From Lady day to the a.s.sumption, at a certain hour the bell was to ring and a quant.i.ty of bread, "enough to repel hunger," to be given to the poor then present; and "because the house should be properly 'Domus Dei,' or the house of G.o.d, and of the Bishops of Norwich," it was ordained that "as often as any bishop of the see should pa.s.s by, he should go in and give his blessing to the sick." Edward VI. dissolved the Hospital and gave it to the city as a house for the poor. A school was also established, which was afterwards transferred to the Free School. The cloisters of the old hospital still remain almost entire, and serve as walks for the pensioners.

St. Edmund, St. James, St. Paul, St. Margaret, all the Saints, _St.

Saviour_, St. Clements the Martyr, _St. Peter Southgate_, and per _Mountergate_, St. Julian, St. Michael at Plea, at _Thorn_, and _Coslany_, St. Ethelred, St. John's Sepulchre, and St. John's Timberhill, St. George, and St. Augustine, fill up the register of ecclesiastical edifices; each possesses some particular claim to notice, down to the legend of the Lady in the Oak, that gave a distinctive t.i.tle to the church of St. Martin at Oak, where her image once figured in an oak tree in the churchyard, and wrought wondrous miracles, which caused so much adoration to be paid to the graven image, that the purgers of idolatry in good young King Edward's reign, found it needful to displace it from its high position, and cut down the tree in which it stood.

Among the biographies a.s.sociated with the various districts over which these patron saints may be said to hold their reign, are those of the eminent divine, Dr. Samuel Clarke, of the seventeenth century; Kay, or Caius, the founder of Caius College, Cambridge; Professors Hooker and Lindley, the great botanists; William Taylor, Sayer, Sedgwick, Gurney, Opie, and Borrow, among the literary celebrities of the age; Professor Taylor and Dr. Bexfield, names known well in the musical world, and many others, whose lives and works ent.i.tle them to be ranked among the leading characters of their time; while in the medical profession, the names and fame of Martineau and Crosse have become European. Few of these can we pause to sketch-many of them are among the number of those whose work is not yet done; and of others it may be said that their memory is too fresh in the hearts of those bound to them by chords of affection and friends.h.i.+p, for a "stranger to intermeddle" therewith.

William Taylor was the friend and correspondent of Southey. It is said, in his "Life," that he once jocosely remarked, "If ever I write my own life, I shall commence it in the following grandiloquent manner; 'Like Plato, like Sir Isaac Newton, like Frederick Leopold, Count s...o...b..rg, I was born on the 7th of November, and, like Mrs. Opie and Sir James Edward Smith, I was baptized by the Rev. Samuel Bourn, then the Presbyterian minister of the Octagon chapel.'" His attainments as a German scholar were notorious, and his metaphysical writings earned for him a widely-extended fame. His translations of German theological works, may be regarded as the first introduction of that school of literature, that is at this moment deluging our country with the copious streams of philosophy, whose deep and subtle waters, whether invigorating or noxious, are spreading themselves through every channel of society in our land.

William Jackson Hooker, the son of a manufacturer of Norwich, rose to the rank of Regius Professor of Botany, in the University of Glasgow. In early life he was spoken of by Sir James Smith as the first cryptogamic botanist of the time, and his after-works proved the accuracy of the opinion. His "Muscologia Brittannica," and "Monograph on the Genus Jungermannia," are unrivalled as guides to the scientific enquirer, and, with his other works, may be cla.s.sed among the gems of English literature. In the course of his rambles in the neighbourhood of his native city, he discovered, in a fir-wood near Sprowston, that quaint, curious, one-sided looking little moss, called _Buxbaumia aphylla_, which, dest.i.tute of any visible foliage, rears its little club-like seed-vessels upon its foot-stalks in the most eccentric possible manner.

The muscologist may search long and often ere a specimen may meet his eye, even within the precincts of the grove where Dr. Hooker first discovered it; but many another rare and beautiful contribution to a moss herbarium shall reward him for his pains, especially the elegant _Bartramia_, with its exquisitely soft velvet foliage, and globular seed-vessels, to be met with in such rich abundance in few other soils.

Lindley, the Professor of Botany in the London University, is another genius raised from the nursery grounds of the Old City; his father having followed the profession of horticulture at Catton, one of the suburbs of Norwich.

One more biographical notice must close our list, and with it we make an end of our chronicles and "Rambles in an Old City."

To those who were among the privileged number of friends, acquaintances, or even fellow-citizens of Joseph John Gurney, it will be easy to imagine why so beautiful a subject has been chosen for the closing sketch of our "pencillings by the way;" and the world at large will see in the name of the great philanthropist, whose memory sheds a sacred halo over every spot familiar with the deeds of gentle loving-kindness, tender mercy, and active benevolence, that marked his earthly career-a meet theme from which to borrow a ray of glory to brighten the scene of our "Ramblings,"

as the landscape borrows a golden tint from the lingering beams of the sun that has set beneath the horizon.

As the brother of Elizabeth Fry, her fellow-worker in the field of usefulness, and her companion in her memorable visits to the prisons of England, Ireland, Scotland, and the Continent, his history could not have failed to possess a deep interest, even apart from the individual characteristics of his bright and beautiful home-life, and the l.u.s.tre shed upon his name by its familiar a.s.sociation with those of Clarkson, Wilberforce, and Buxton, in the cause of slave emanc.i.p.ation.

The third son of John and Catherine Gurney, and sister of Priscilla Wakefield, he was born at Earlham Hall, August 2d, 1788. It is a singular fact connected with the name, that one of his ancestors, in 1653, was sent a prisoner to the Norwich gaol, for refusing to take the oath, and that Waller Bacon, of Earlham, who committed him, resided at the time in the very Hall which the descendants of the prisoner afterwards occupied. When Joseph was only four years of age, the family of eleven children lost the superintending care of their mother, and his home education mainly devolved upon his three elder sisters, among whom was Mrs. Fry. Their home was the scene of rich hospitality, dealt out by their liberal-minded father; and the literary tastes, intellectual pursuits, and elegant accomplishments, in which every member of the social group delighted, drew around them a brilliant circle of the choicest society, to which the late Duke of Gloucester was a frequent and welcome addition.

The scholastic instruction of Joseph John was at first superintended by a clergyman, and afterwards matured at Oxford, where he attended the professor's lectures, and enjoyed many of the advantages of the university, without becoming a member or subscribing to the thirty-nine articles.

Such an education naturally tended to create some doubts as to the system of Quakerism; but after much examination and consideration, his preference became settled in favour of the views and profession of his old "Friends;" and consistently with them he lived and died, by no means finding in them any barrier to the fullest and freest a.s.sociation with any other body of Christians, or to a personal friends.h.i.+p with the ecclesiastical bishops of the diocese, with one of whom, Bishop Bathurst, he was a frequent and esteemed guest; while to Bishop Stanley was left the melancholy opportunity of bearing a testimony to his public and private character, in the memorable form of a funeral sermon from the cathedral pulpit, a tribute of respect unexampled since the days of George Fox. His life spent in doing good, in preaching as the minister of the society to which he belonged, in England, Ireland, upon the Continent, and in America, was full of interest. In the legislative hall, at Was.h.i.+ngton, before the a.s.sembled members of Congress, his voice was heard. Louis Philippe, Guizot, and De Stael, were among his auditors in France; the King of Holland abandoned, through his counsel, the importation of slave soldiers from the Gold Coast; Vinet at Lausanne, D'Aubigne in Geneva, and the King of Wirtemberg, held council with him.

To attempt to chronicle his deeds of pecuniary munificence, public and private, would be an herculean task. The great sums lavished upon public societies, the world of necessity was made acquainted with, but they formed but a moiety of the aids furnished from his abundance to the wants of the needy. He was truly one whose left hand was not suffered to know the deeds of its fellow. The sick and the poor, at home and abroad, the industrious and the struggling, the aged and the young-each and all shared his bounty and loving help, for he was one who _gave_, and did not _fling_ his charities down from the proud heights of opulence, so that poverty might blush to pick them up. But the record of his life was inscribed upon the page of history in characters indelible by the tears that watered his pathway to the tomb. We have made a faint effort to paint the last solemn scene that marked the close of the lamented Bishop Stanley's career, and were almost tempted to place side by side with it the shade of grief that hung over the city when the great "_Friend_" was suddenly called home from his labours of usefulness and love upon earth.

Few will ever be able to forget the scene of mourning and sorrow that followed the unlooked-for event, or the almost unparalleled silence of woe that was written upon every heart and countenance among the thronging thousands that attended to pay the last tributes of respect at the grave of the beloved and honoured philanthropist; when Magistrates and Artizans, Clergymen and Dissenting Ministers, Churchmen, Independents, Baptists, Methodists, and Friends, representatives of every grade of society and shade of religious opinion that the Old City could send forth, gathered around that lowly spot of earth to drop a tear, and seek inspiration from the spirit of love that seemed to breathe around the silent tomb. And who will forget the thrilling prayer offered up from the lips of the widowed mourner, who fulfilled, in the midst of that heart-stricken mult.i.tude, her measure of obedience to the will of Heaven and the duty of self-government, by public prayer and thanksgiving. Who does not rank among the n.o.blest of the many n.o.ble sermons of the good Bishop Stanley, the far-sounding appeal that was sent forth from the pulpit of his cathedral, "Watchman, what of the night?"-the commemorating words that have been inseparably linked with the name and memory of Joseph John Gurney from that hour.

Years have pa.s.sed since these events occurred, but the remembrance of them is vivid; the rich legacy bequeathed to the Old City by the holy life, walk, and conversation of such a man is not soon expended; but treasured in the sanctuary of many loving hearts, it is nurtured, and brings forth fruit, fifty, seventy, and a hundred-fold, to the honour and glory of G.o.d, and to immortalize the memory of a faithful servant in the vineyard of souls.